HEL-L-L-P US-S-S! cried a spirit flashing past. For an instant Legroeder saw a young man’s rictus-face pressed against the net like a window pane. It was no one he knew; yet he was overwhelmed by a sense that he had met this man before.
HEL-L-L-P US-S-S… !
The ghost veered away, and as Legroeder and Deutsch flinched, the ship rocked dangerously. Fly the ship, Legroeder thought desperately; but he couldn’t control his fear. Palagren was trying to compensate. Ker’sell—come back into the net! We need you! the Narseil called into the com.
Another ghost hissed by. Palagren seemed utterly unaffected. As his fellow Narseil returned to the net, he reported, Legroeder and Freem’n are seeing something I’m not—some sort of third-ring entities. They’re losing control. You and I need to steer! He was working urgently to level the ship, oblivious to the ghosts about his head.
// We’ve identified the voice, // murmured an implant in Legroeder’s head. // It’s from your memories of the Impris encounter. You heard the crew calling out to you on the L.A.—and at least one of those voices is the same. //
Impris! Legroeder whispered aloud.
Yes? said Palagren. If these are real voices and not just your memories, we must follow them. They may be showing us the way.
Or, Legroeder thought desperately, it may be my subconscious taking us through some delirious hallucination.
Captain Glenswarg wants to know what the hell we’re doing, Ker’sell said as he helped Palagren fly. He appeared to have shaken off whatever was alarming him; like Palagren, he was calm as ice now. What shall we tell him?
That we’re onto something important and we need to see it through, Palagren said. With your permission, Legroeder—?
Legroeder struggled. Palagren was right; he had to overcome his fear. He finally grunted, Permission granted, and watched with dread as Palagren and Ker’sell steered them toward the waves of light from which the ghosts had emerged. The place that had once been a spider was now boiling and curling over with waves of light, ghosts whirling and diving through the curls. The ship wallowed like an overloaded airplane, dropping toward it. You aren’t intending to go through! Legroeder whispered. I’m supposed to be in control; I’m supposed to be in control…
This is amazing! said Palagren. I see glimpses forward and backward, as if time has flowered into beautiful petals. And Legroeder! I see the entities emerging. Some of them are from you and Freem’n—but some are not. Some are from down below, from the underflux! Legroeder, these voices came through that opening. We must go!
All right, Legroeder managed, praying he was not condemning them to Impris’s fate. Take us down! And to his implants: (Map everything!)
Palagren banked the ship into a dive.
The waves grew, until the curling crests turned into coiling tunnels of darkness, lit by the glow of flying spirits. Legroeder held his breath, as the ship flew into one of the cresting wave tunnels, along with half a dozen of the faces.
Deutsch cried out in terror.
Legroeder, suppressing his own fear, felt a surge of unreasoning hope. It’s all right, he gasped, as the starship plunged through the spectral glow after the whirling ghosts.
The passage seemed to take a long time, and no time at all. The tunnel blossomed open to reveal bright, golden-orange clouds: the clouds of the underflux, he felt certain. He didn’t know why, but his fears had begun to melt away.
What is this? Palagren cried.
Legroeder blinked, then saw what Palagren meant—a great, clear orb floating toward them. The ghostly faces were gathering near the orb, their voices fading to a monotonous buzz. One after another, like bees, they plunged into the orb and vanished.
Legroeder’s heart was still thundering in his chest, but he forced himself to focus as the ship drifted toward the shimmering sphere. He realized now what it was.
It was a giant raindrop.
And through the raindrop, magnified and distorted as though through an ethereal telescope, he saw something that took his breath away.
A starship, long and silver.
Impris.
Chapter 29
The Flying Dutchman
For a moment, no one stirred. They all saw it, through the raindrop: the spaceship, like an insect caught in amber. Legroeder’s pulse raced. He shifted his vantage point from one side of the net to the other, trying to get a clear view of the length of the starship. I guess the only way to reach it is to go through, he murmured, as much to himself as to the others.
The Narseil peered through the raindrop with expressions of wonderment. But at the keel position, Deutsch was quaking in terror. You can’t! It’s a graveyard ship! Let it rest in peace!
Legroeder looked down toward the keel. What is it, Freem’n? What’s wrong?
Deutsch shuddered wordlessly.
Legroeder searched for the source of Freem’n’s terror. What did Deutsch see that he didn’t? He spoke to his own implants. (Can you connect me to Freem’n’s augments? Without exposing me to whatever he’s going through?)
// Attempting… //
Palagren called out at that moment, I was wrong. Those are not third-ring entities! They are as alive as we are!
They’re coming from Impris, Legroeder said. I know those voices.
No! cried Deutsch. They’re not alive!
// We have a connection, // reported the implants.
Legroeder followed the augment prompts. It was like peering through a telescope, glimpsing what Deutsch saw. Legroeder was astounded by the difference in the view. Deutsch was staring through the raindrop at a broken hull, filled with lifeless bodies. And ghosts, twirling in and out of view.
(This is insane. Why is he seeing this?)
// Unsure… //
(Is he viewing it through his augmentation?)
// Yes. //
Damn. Legroeder called out to his companions, Listen, everyone! We’re not all seeing the same image. Freem’n, can you change your view?
No! Deutsch cried in anguish.
Legroeder spoke to his implants. (Do you still have that connection—?)
Before he could finish the question, he was suddenly gazing across a dark gulf—at Deutsch on a lighted stage, crouched down in terror. He called across to the stage. (Freem’n! Disconnect from your augments!)
(I can-n-n’t!) Deutsch wailed.
Legroeder thought he knew what was happening. It was the damned raider augments, programmed to instill terror. (Freem’n, your augments are distorting your view of the Flux! You’ve got to disconnect!)
// Try showing him this… //
Legroeder’s implants displayed his view of Impris, its net still active, an automated distress beacon flashing a monotonous plea for assistance. Then a translucent overlay slid across the image… and it was transmogrified into a ghost ship full of corpses and tormented spirits.